A Toast
by KateToast
Summary: There was only one witness to the matrimonial toasting ceremony of Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, and he sort of wished he hadn't even been invited.


**XXX**

There was only one witness to the matrimonial toasting ceremony of Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, and he sort of wished he hadn't even been invited.

At least, that's what Haymitch kept telling his old mentees in the days leading up to the big (secret) event. "You don't want me there," he kept telling them as he swigged clear liquor from a smudged glass. "I'll – I'll end up burnin' down the house or something before you can even eat the damn bread."

Neither of them would hear it.

"Haymitch. You're coming. We need a witness," Katniss had insisted.

Peeta took the emotional route. "Haymitch. You're family. We want you at our toasting."

Haymitch had growled under his breath, which Peeta had taken as a good sign.

So on the designated autumn day, Haymitch Abernathy had woken by 3 (pm, that is), took a bath, and rooted around the messy house for something semi-decent to wear, not that the kids would probably care.

He ambled across his lawn to theirs and smoothed down his straw-like hair before letting himself into the house. The sun was setting at this point, and the only other light in the whole place was coming from the fire, which Peeta was stoking.

Haymitch cleared his throat to make himself known and Peeta stood, grinning. The boy had on dark slacks and a blue shirt that seemed to match his eyes shockingly well. He was starting to wear his hair longer than he used to.

"Nice shirt," Haymitch said, flopping down onto the couch.

Peeta looked down at himself and nodded. "Effie sent it. She's worried we're wearing rags out here."

The name of the sender perked Haymitch's interest just a tiny bit. "Huh. Well, woman always did know how to dress somebody else."

Peeta smirked, which Haymitch ignored. The older man took a silver flask from his jacket pocket and screwed open the top. He was about to take a swig but offered it out. "Need some liquid courage, kid? Lots of grooms usually do."

"No, I'm…" Peeta started, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand. He then shot out that same hand to grab the flask and tip the contents back into his mouth. When he righted himself his eyes were watering. "Haymitch, what is this?"

Haymitch waggled his eyebrows. "The good stuff," he said.

"Well don't leave me out," a voice said, and both men turned to the staircase, at the bottom of which stood Katniss. She had on a simple, knee-length dress, a deep orange color. Her dark hair was down in light waves, and she was barefoot.

Haymitch had seen the girl in quite the number of get ups, but she'd never looked like this before. Because she was _happy_ ; the emotion beamed off of her like heat from the sun. It made her more beautiful than any of those ball gowns or painted faces. Haymitch glanced at Peeta beside him and saw the boy obviously had the same thoughts, judging by the awestruck look about to crack his face.

"One more drink as an unmarried woman, sweetheart?" Haymitch offered the flask.

She stepped towards them, completing their triangle, and took a pull. She made a face as she handed it back.

"Well, ain't for everyone," Haymitch muttered, storing it back in his pocket. The kids were staring at each other. It took everything in Haymitch to not make fun of them. "So, shall we get this show on the road?"

Peeta ran back into the kitchen to grab the bread he'd made for the occasion. Katniss waited by the fire, dress almost matching the flames. Haymitch held his tongue from making a "girl on fire" jab, figuring he could lay off at least for their special day.

Peeta came back with the bread, a cutting board, a knife, and two thin metal pokers. He set them on the low table in front of the fireplace and Katniss and Haymitch gathered by as he sliced, on his knees. Unsurprisingly the loaf smelled delicious – looked like it had nuts in it, too.

He cut half the loaf in all before setting down the knife and picking up the pokers. He smiled up at Katniss as he offered her one of them. The girl nodded and got to her knees as well, and together they each took a slice and stuck them with their pokers. Haymitch stood a little back, taking in the admittedly nice scene.

His victors. Stubborn, fragile girl. Sweet, strong boy. He sort of couldn't believe they'd actually gotten their shit together to reach this point.

All the ceremonies Haymitch had attended (i.e., about two in his lifetime) had involved the couple exchanging some words before doing the toasting, so he was prepared when Peeta took a rocky breath.

"Katniss," he started, and he was looking at the girl in a way Haymitch didn't think he himself had ever looked at anyone. "It's hard to put into words everything you mean to me, even for me," he joked, and Katniss chuckled. "I've loved you since before I understood what that meant. And I could go on about all the ways you've changed my life, and the ways you've saved me, and the ways you keep saving me every day, but I don't wanna focus on that. This toasting is about our future. Together. And I'm ready to face whatever that is, with you. I've never been able to imagine my life without you in it, and now you're giving me the greatest gift: you, with me, every day, for the rest of our lives. You're my best friend. I love you. And that's the realest thing I've ever known."

A few tears escaped as Katniss blinked, nodding and smiling. Peeta looked a little watery himself. And if Haymitch felt some moisture in his eyes, well, it was probably just allergies from that damn cat.

She took his free hand in hers and unsteadily began. "I'm not great with words like you are. That isn't a secret. But I promise you I'm gonna work on that. And I'm going to show you every day, in everything I do, how much you mean to me. You're the dandelion in the spring for me," she said, which Haymitch didn't really understand but it seemed to mean something to them. "I always imagined myself on my own. But then you snuck up on me. And now I can't imagine anything other than this. You're my best friend, too."

She paused, and Peeta snatched the silence to ask softly: "You love me. Real or not real?"

Katniss shook her head in amusement. "Real. Of course, real."

"That's all I need," Peeta said, grinning, and then they both held their slices of bread over the fire to toast them.

"Stupid cat," Haymitch mumbled, swiping a stray tear off his face with a finger while the couple let their bread toast. "Hey, uh, always wondered – how do you know when it's done?" he asked, smirking at them and putting his hands in his pockets.

Peeta glanced at him over his shoulder. "I'm a baker, Haymitch, remember? I know these things."

A minute later it was done. They stood and fed each other the bread at the same time, as is custom, and kissed with crumbs on their lips. As they pulled apart Haymitch wandered closer, eyeing the un-toasted slices. "Hey, uh… any left for the guests?"

All in all it was a pretty beautiful experience, though Haymitch was loath to admit that to anyone who asked. Word got out quick that he'd been the sole witness at the toasting of the Mockingjay, especially when Katniss and Peeta brought him the piece of paper from town to sign certifying he'd been there. He received a lot of letters from people he hadn't heard much from since the war ended. Lots of congratulations wanting to be passed on, lots of dirt wanting to be divulged. The only person who received a detailed description of the night was Mrs. Everdeen, whom Haymitch had written the moment he'd gotten home.

Otherwise he mostly kept his mouth shut, especially at the celebration party the kids threw a few weeks after. Most people stopped badgering him once they realized he wasn't going to budge. "Gotta respect their privacy," he kept repeating.

There was one relentless information pursuer, though, that Haymitch just couldn't shake. When he came face to face with Plutarch Heavensbee a few months after the ceremony while in the New Capitol ("Visiting no one in particular, really," he'd told Katniss and Peeta, who hadn't bought it at all and told him to say hi to Effie for them) the round man was a dog with a bone.

"Just a small exclusive," he'd needled. "It'd be great for morale. Everything's still so new – people would love to hear about the Mockingjay's wedding ceremony from someone who was actually _present_."

"Like I said in response to your last three letters – N. O."

"C'mon, Haymitch…"

"Swear to God, Plutarch."

"What are you boys arguing about?"

Effie's wig was blonde-ish, which Haymitch knew to be close to her real hair color. He smiled down at her beatifically and said, "Nothing, dear," while Plutarch said, "He's being difficult, as usual."

"Well, what else is new," Effie murmured in her still-affected accent that drove Haymitch crazy, giving him a look he knew well.

She glided away. Plutarch was trying to start in again on the subject. "Just let the damn kids be happy," Haymitch interrupted. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a game of Capitolites and Rebels to get to."

He snagged two flutes of champagne on his way out the door Effie had just left from, shaking his head at Plutarch. "Damn kids, told 'em not to invite me…" he muttered as he went.

 **XXX**


End file.
